December 17, 2013 by Joumana Haddad
Syrian refugees in Lebanon need urgent help, and you can do something about it
It’s as simple as that. (Image courtesy of Georges Melhem)
I don’t believe in miracles. I don’t believe in angels and demons, in heaven and hell, in divine resurrections and turning water into wine. But I do believe in human beings, with all their wonderful plurality and enriching diversity. I believe in their natural ability to be decent, caring, giving, and kind, and not because they expect some kind of a reward in return; in their innate impulse to feel the suffering of others and extend a helping hand instead of thinking that “someone else has got to do it;” in their intrinsic yearning to be better, gentler, more affectionate, thoughtful, and generous.
Those people are, in a way, my “gods:” men and women who go out of their way to console and assist those in need of consoling and assistance; men and women who actually notice those in pain under the blinding, glittering surface of their own comfort and do something about it; men and women who are concerned with more than their own well-being; men and women who are not intoxicated by indifference, selfishness, and apathy, and who do not interpret the “holiday spirit” as the latest Michael Kors mink coat.
Those are my gods indeed, for they restore my faith in humanity and the real meaning of the human condition. And I have been lucky enough to have met many of them recently: Not in a church, not in a mosque, but on the streets of this crumbling country. I have seen them collecting clothes, blankets and toys for deprived Syrian refugees; I have seen them distributing fuel, medicines and heaters to families whose little babies are dying from the cold; and I have seen them, especially, giving out smiles, hugs and genuine love to hopeless, distressed people who have nothing left but their own despair.
There are so many civil campaigns going on right now in Lebanon – we only need to take our pick and join any one of them. Take the “I AM NOT A TOURIST” initiative, or the “Lebanese for Syrian refugees” campaign for example. The sight of those young men and women who volunteered, worked together, and managed to fill up 25 trucks of essential donations, then went up to the mountains of Arsal and distributed them to Syrian families in dire need of anything and everything, is heartwarming to say the least. These people are the real spirit of Lebanon.
I know what some of you are thinking: “We don’t have the time, we don’t have the energy, our life is too complicated and tough as it is.” Well, it doesn’t need to require you getting up at four in the morning to go to Arsal. Do you see those little kids and elderly people scattered on the streets of your city that you always meet on your way to and from work? Those you say to yourself you shouldn’t give money to in order to not encourage begging? Those you whine and grumble about? Well don’t give them money. You can keep a stack of good old clothes, blankets, or the toys in your car, and every time you meet one of them, you could give him or her – depending on their age or their obvious need – a good jacket, or a pair of warm shoes, or a toy that your kid has outgrown, or a mantle that you can do without. Even socks are welcome, or some homemade cookies. And give it all with a smile. Give it all with love and compassion. Believe me: you would be doing yourself a favor too.
And while you are doing all that, stop complaining that they are stealing your jobs, raping your girls, threatening your economy and security. Put yourself in their shoes for a minute: it’s not like this is unlikely to happen to you. In such a disaster of a country, we could find ourselves in their position one day, easier and sooner than you can or want to imagine.
Each and every individual counts. Change begins with one person. And believe it or not, you have the power within you to bring colossal change to this country through love and empathy, through the tiny details. You matter. You can.
And next time you find yourself feeling apathetic, close your eyes and imagine waking up to find your nine-month-old baby frozen to death. That is bound to change your perspective.
If it doesn’t, then you can go back to believing in hell. That’s not where you’re going. That’s where you already are.
